When Heaven Weeps Read Online Free PDF

them. “What is happening to Marie is nothing! Say it! Nothing!”
    No one spoke.
    Karadzic suddenly flipped his rifle to his shoulder and peered down its barrel at Sister Flouta. “Say it!”
    A hard knot lodged in Father Michael’s throat. His vision blurred with tears. God, this could not be happening! They were a peaceful, loving people who served a risen God. Father, do not abandon us! Do not! Do not!
    The commander cocked the rifled to the sky with his right hand. His lips pressed white. “To the graveyard then! All of you! All the women.”
    They only stared at him, unbelieving.
    He shoved a thick, dirty finger toward the large cross at the cemetery’s entrance and fired into the air. “Go!”
    They went. Like a flock of geese, pattering down the steps and across the courtyard, some whimpering, others setting their jaws firm. Marie kept slogging across the stone yard. She was slowing, Michael thought.
    The commander turned to his men. “Load a cross on every woman and bring them back.”
    The thin soldier with bright hazel eyes stepped forward in protest. “Sir—”
    â€œShut up!”
    The soldiers jogged for the graveyard. Father Michael’s vision swam. Father, you are abandoning us! They are playing with your children!
    Several children moved close to him, tugging at his robe, embracing his leg. Blurred forms in uniform kicked at the headstone crosses and hoisted them to the backs of the women. They staggered back to the courtyard, bearing their heavy loads. It was impossible!
    Father Michael watched his flock reduced to animals, bending under the weight of concrete crosses. He clenched his teeth. These were women, like Mary and Martha, with tender hearts full of love. Sweet, sweet women, who’d toiled in childbirth and nursed their babies through cold winters. He should rush the commander and smash his head against the rock! He should protect his sheep!
    Michael saw the dove in his peripheral vision clucking on the roofline, stepping from one foot to the other. The comforting words seemed distant now, so very abstract. Peace, my son . But this was not peace! This was barbarism!
    The twisted smile found Karadzic’s quivering lips again. “March,” he ordered. “March, you pathetic slugs! We’ll see how you like Christ’s cross. And the first one to drop the cross will be beaten with the Father!”
    They walked with Marie, twenty-three of them, bowed under their loads, silent except for heavy breathing and padding feet, staggering.
    Every bone in Michael’s body screamed in protest now. Stop this! Stop this immediately! It’s insanity! Take me, you spineless cowards! I will carry their crosses. I will carry all of their crosses. You may bury me under their crosses if you wish, but leave these dear women alone! For the love of God! His whole body trembled as the words rushed through his head.
    But they did not reach his lips. They could not because his throat had seized shut in anguish. And either way, the insane commander might very well take the butt of his gun to one of them if he spoke.
    A child whimpered at Michael’s knee. He bit his lower lip, closed his eyes, and rested a hand on the boy’s head. Father, please. His bones shook with the inward groan. Tears spilled down his cheeks now, and he felt one land on his hand, wet and warm. His humped shoulders begged to shake—to sob—to cry out for relief, but he refused to disintegrate before all of them. He was their shepherd, for heaven’s sake! He was not one of the women or one of the children, he was a man. God’s chosen vessel for this little village in a land savaged by war.
    He breathed deep and closed his eyes. Dearest Jesus . . . My dearest Jesus . . .
    The world changed then, for the second time that day. A brilliant flash ignited in his mind, as if someone had taken a picture with one of those bulbs that popped and burned out. Father